Blossoming Love
by T.R. Hunter
Summary: A one off humorous piece. Hawke is not quite sure what Merrill is getting him into when she asks for help in matters of the heart.


"You want me to do what?" Hawke asked, askance.

Merrill fidgeted prettily and said, "Not do it exactly, I just want you to help me. You will, Hawke, won't you? You're the only one I can trust… well maybe Varric, no, no, only you. And anyway, Isabella laughed and me and she won't go near the Qunari compound for some reason, so…"

"So, I'm really your third choice." It was said sternly, but Hawke was smiling as he looked down at the elf.

"No, no," she started to protest.

He broke in. "It's all right Merrill. I'll help if I can, but are you sure you really want to… well, I'm not even sure what you want to do… but with a Saarebas?"

She was clinging to the front of Hawke's jerkin, all but bouncing with excitement. "He's not just a Saarebas, he's… he's dreamy. Oh, I didn't think I would ever _feel_ this way about anyone. I've watched you and Anders and Isabella and Fenris and…"

Hawke held up a hand to stop her. He didn't really need to have his romantic conquests enumerated. He sat down and pulled the eager elf onto his lap.

"Merrill, you know that the Qunari are, well, different. And large. I'm not really sure that a Qunari and an elf, especially a male Qunari and a female elf, well, I'm not sure the, um, logistics would be quite the thing."

She looked up at him with giant eyes, puzzled. "But, if we love each other? Oh! And I _do_ think it's love, I really really do! Then… what are you talking about, Hawke? Love conquers all, right? I've heard that said, I think it was in one of Varric's books too… you know, those books that he puts somebody else's name on, but that he really writes. The ones that he gets all cute and red if you mention them, especially if there's a woman around."

Hawke held her away a bit and asked seriously, "Merrill, you've been reading those books? You don't think they're like real life, do you? I'm afraid that Varric gets a bit, um, imaginative in them."

The elf pouted, saying, "He wouldn't lie, would he? Not Varric? And anyway, how am I going to learn about these things? The Keeper would never tell me, and you and the others won't talk. I used to watch the Halla in spring, but they didn't seem very romantic." She pouted and continued, "And he's just, well… he reads poetry to me. At least I think it's poetry. Since I don't speak Qunari, I'm not sure, but it sounds very romantic and the way he looks at me when he reads it, is just…" Her eyes rolled up and she almost fell from his lap in a swoon. He caught her and placed her on her feet, keeping his hands on her shoulders until she steadied.

"All right," he said, rising. "Let's go see your young Saarebas. But Merrill, don't be disappointed if it's not what you think."

"Oh you!" she snickered, slapping him lightly on the chest. "It's _exactly_ what I think. I just couldn't be wrong about something like this. I just couldn't."

Walking through the docks, or about anywhere else in Kirkwall, with Merrill was always a trial. She had no sense of decorum and would often accost people, asking the most outrageous questions. Today was particularly maddening as she skipped ahead, then ran back to throw her arms around the tall human, then ran ahead again, singing and dancing. At first he tried to corral her, to put a stopper on her exuberance, but soon gave up.

When she came running up with a necklace made of flowers and threw it joyfully around his neck, he seriously considered breaking his word and slumping off to the Hanged Man for a drink or three. Several merchants were watching and laughing openly, thinking the fey elf was Hawke's latest prize. Snarling, he ripped the offending garland from his neck, scattering florets across the pavement. This, at least, seemed to sober the elf a bit. She scolded, "Ooooo, that wasn't very nice. And look all the pretty flowers on the ground—careful! Don't step on them with your big feet. I'll just gather them up."

Carrying her bruised bounty, she walked ahead, her neck bent in dejection. Why was it that Merrill could always do this to him? Hawke had decided long ago that he would rather face a dozen rapid mabari than a single disappointed Merrill. He went to her and lay a large hand on her narrow shoulder, saying, "Merrill…"

She looked up at him with tragic eyes and said, "It's all right. I understand. It must be hard for you, to see me so in love when Fenris just…"

He put his finger across her mouth to shush her. "Merrill, that's not going to help. Look, there's the compound. Run ahead and see if they'll admit us."

"Oh, they will, they will!" she cried. They know me. They'll let us right in!" She danced up to the guard who was more than twice her height, and gave him a radiant smile. If Hawke didn't know better, he would have sworn that the Karashok's lips turned up. The Qunari bowed slightly and indicated that they were free to enter.

Taking Hawke's hand and pulling him along as she ran through the compound, Merrill shouted, "Blossom! Blossom!" then turned and explained, "That's what I call him, since they don't have regular names like us, you know, and I had to have something to call him by, and he's just like a beautiful little flower." Following, Hawke contemplated the patience of the Qunari. Or perhaps her 'Blossom' didn't speak the common tongue. That might explain a lot.

She stopped before the largest, most dignified, and most terrifying Qunari this side of the Arishok. Wrapping her thin arms around one of the giant's thick ones, she said, "Hawke, this is Blossom. Blossom, my friend Hawke. He said he'd help us."

"Greetings, Ser Hawke," the Saarebas rumbled in a deep voice, as the subject of the salutation wondered just what it was he had agreed to help them with. He had thought Merrill only wanted… well, now that he considered, he realized he didn't know what she wanted. She tended to have that effect on him—he would think that he understood perfectly, then realize when it was too late that he had no idea what she'd said. And, apparently, the giant spoke the common tongue perfectly, and still deigned to be called Blossom by Merrill. Perhaps it was true love.

Hawke started to ask, "Uh, Merrill, what was it exactly again…" but she pulled him away, her other hand in the Qunari's huge mitt.

"Come on you two, hurry. I can hardly wait," she chortled. "It feels like I've been waiting my whole life for this. Hurry, hurry, to the Alienage!"

They made quite a parade, the petite elf leading the large human and larger Qunari through the docks and into Lowtown. Hawke was becoming more and more agitated as he wondered what exactly he had let himself in for. Merrill lived in the Alienage, so were they going to her house where she and 'Blossom' could have privacy to consummate their relationship? And, if so, what in the world was his part in it? He wasn't really sure he even wanted to know.

They saw Varric round a corner near the Hanged Man, but he quickly spun on his heels and disappeared, his laughter lingering. Hawke felt that he should dig in his heels and stop the headstrong elf until he knew what was going on, but with Merrill that was easier said that done. And his curiosity was getting the better of him. He realized he really needed to know what it was she wanted of him.

When they reached the small courtyard in the center of the Alienage, rather than going to her door, Merrill dropped their hands and ran to the Vhenadahl, the great tree that dominated the area. Turning and spreading her hands at her side, she said, "Here we are, at last. Oh Blossom, I am _so_ happy!" She hugged the Qunari, laying her head against his belly.

Becoming more sober, she looked up at Hawke and said, "All right. It's time. I'm ready and Blossom is ready. You can do it now."

The human blinked at her in utter perplexity and asked, "Merrill, what is it, exactly, that you want me to do for you and Blossom." He blushed at using the name for the huge Qunari, but had no idea how else to refer to him.

The elf's face fell as she said, "But I thought I explained all that. You do have your dagger with you don't you?"

Hawke pulled back a bit. Of course he had his dagger, but he was not going to take part in one of Merrill's blood magic rituals, no matter how much she begged. He started to turn, saying, "Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I'm sorry Merrill, but I just can't be a part of your magic, not the blood magic anyway."

Her laughter trilled through the warm spring air as she said, "Not magic, silly!" She looked fondly up at Blossom. "Well, not _that_ kind of magic anyway. No blood magic today. Now draw your dagger, _please_." She fluttered her eyelids and as had happened so many times before, Hawke felt as if he were entranced. Cautiously, he pulled the razor sharp knife from its sheath, still with no idea how he was supposed to employ it.

She pointed to the Vhenadahl and said, "There. Right there. You can see where I started, but I'm not strong enough, that bark is _hard_, and for some silly reason Saarebas are not allowed to use bladed weapons. That's why we need your help. Oh please Hawke, don't back out now. It means the world to me."

Hawke bent and looked at the faint scratches on the ancient tree. He could almost make out a heart surrounding some marks that could be names. He looked up at Merrill and asked, "You want me to carve your names in the tree?"

"Oh yes!" she answered. "Just like in Varric's book! It will be _so_ romantic. All the world will know of our love for ever and ever. Please Hawke. You can, can't you? You're ever so big and strong." Again the batting eyelashes.

Taking a huge breath, Hawke asked, "Are you sure this is a good idea, Merrill? Isn't this tree sacred to your people? Should we really be carving into it?"

She smiled brilliantly, saying, "That's why it's so perfect. What could be a better expression of true love?"

Shrugging, Hawke sat the sharp point to the ancient tree. "A heart and your names within it, I suppose? Did you want an arrow through the heart?"

Merrill looked at him in confusion. "You didn't bring your bow, did you?" She looked around him, as if she could have earlier missed seeing the massive bow. "And what would an arrow add? Is it traditional? I do want everything to be perfect, buy I don't think archery is necessary, at least I didn't read anything about that. What do you think Blossom?"

Staring straight ahead, as if standing at attention, the Qunari said, "No archery."

"No, I don't think so either," Merrill mused. "But yes, a heart please and that little plus sign to show that we are together… and maybe the word 'forever'? Yes, Merrill and Blossom forever with a big heart around it. Oh yes! I am so excited. I thought this day would never come.

Enchanted despite himself, Hawke kneeled by the tree and did as he was bid. When he was done, Merrill inspected his work carefully, then hugged the human with all of her slight strength.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Hawke! She enthused. "I knew you wouldn't let us down like the others. You can find your own way back, right? I think Blossom and I need a little time alone now." She blushed becomingly and took the Qunari's hand as they both stared at Hawke's handiwork.

That evening in the Hanged Man, as Hawke was finishing his fourth pint, Varric sidled up to him. "So, Hawke," he began, "you and the elf and the Qunari. Is there something I should know?"

Looking at him levelly, Hawke replied, "I am sorry. I know that what occurred is something that would spice up one of your stories. Probably even make it a best seller, but I am sworn to secrecy." He turned back to his ale, hoping with all his heart that he had heard the last of Merrill, Blossom, and their romance.


End file.
